


System failure: Proceed to launch?

by elliebell (Naladot)



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Star Trek, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Humor, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-06-29 23:46:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15739746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naladot/pseuds/elliebell
Summary: Not everyone gets into Starfleet Academy, and even fewer start flying up the ranks of Starfleet Command after they graduate. But Sungjin? Well, he’s on a one-way track to captaining his own ship. He only has one thing standing in his way: a years-old grudge regarding a certain Starfleet officer named Jae. It’s a big, weird universe out there, and Sungjin just isn’t interested in being told what to do by a guy who posted a vlog about his visit to Vulcan called, “I’m not Vulcan around here!” A Star Trek!AU remix of “closed system” by yoonbot for Kpop Ficmix 2018.





	System failure: Proceed to launch?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yoonbot (iverins)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iverins/gifts).
  * Inspired by [closed system](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7561201) by [yoonbot (iverins)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iverins/pseuds/yoonbot). 



> I’ve been meaning to do a Star Trek AU for a long time because I think Wonpil looks like a Vulcan. That said, if there are any Trekkies who are also Kpop fans: one, I’m super curious about how you ended up in both fandoms tbh, and two, I made up a bunch of stuff because most of my Star Trek knowledge is based on my parents watching it when I was growing up rather than actively watching it myself, and this is a Kpop fic so like. Sorry for Star Trek inaccuracies.
> 
> More importantly, to the lovely yoonbot—it took me so long to decide on which fic to remix because all of your fics are amazing! I don’t feel like this fic really lives up to the standards your fic sets but I hope you enjoy it and thank you for giving me the chance to remix your fic <3

* * *

 

 

**_Captain’s Log, Stardate 4567.03_ **

 

_ We have entered an unexplored star system  _

 

[UNIDENTIFIED VOICE]  _ you are not a captain what are you playing at? I thought you said we have to respect rank, if we don’t respect rank then what meaning does rank even have? _

 

MANUAL OVERRIDE - erase log

 

**_Lieutenant’s Log, Stardate 4567.03_ **

 

_ We have entered an unexplored star system, where I will not be held accountable for the murder of obnoxious science officers who think they can cut in on other people’s personal logs just to make irrelevant points  _

 

[UNIDENTIFIED VOICE]  _ it was your rant, not mine dude, I was just reminding you.  _

 

[RESUME LOG]  _ It has come to my attention that following the murder of my roommate, I will need to seek out new friends. I hope I can find someone who appreciates all that I do for him and doesn’t infringe on my logs to insult me  _

 

[UNIDENTIFIED VOICE]  _ man you’re a control freak. _

 

[RESUME LOG]  _ am not _

 

[UNIDENTIFIED VOICE]  _ are too _

 

END LOG.

 

* * *

  
  


Space.

 

Sometimes Sungjin stared, slack-jawed, out the porthole of his dormitory into the ocean of inky emptiness and glittering stars. He knew full well that the window wasn’t really a window at all, just a digital image, but he also knew that only a few feet of metal separated him from the space he saw on screen. That set his heart a-pounding, like an idiot in love.

 

“Hey, Captain.”

 

He turned as Brian re-entered the dormitory, shrugging off his blue and black jacket and letting it fall to the floor in one smooth motion. Sungjin stared at the jacket on the floor.

 

“Are you done with your log yet? Jaebum’s back on ship. Wants to see you.”

 

Eyebrow twitching, Sungjin tore his eyes from the jacket to look at Brian. Brian’s smile faltered, and then he rolled his eyes and swiped the jacket off the floor.

 

“You are  _ so  _ a control freak!” Brian said, pointing his jacket in Sungjin’s direction. “I’m just  _ telling _ you, because it’s my job as your roommate and future second-in-command to tell you these things, you gotta resolve this now. You can’t persnicket a whole ship into respecting you.”

 

“I don’t think persnicket is a verb.”

 

“Language is a complicated, evolving beast, which is why I’m the linguistics expert and you’re not. Are you even listening to me?”

 

“Yes.” Sungjin flashed Brian a winning smile. “You said I’m going to be captain. But why are you so sure I’d pick you as my second?”

 

With that, Sungjin turned on his heel and the door slid away in front of him. Brian trailed behind, pulling on his off-duty shirt as he went.

 

“Who else are you gonna pick? Dowoon?”

 

Sungjin shrugged. “He’s compliant.”

 

The doors at the end of the hall slid open to reveal Jaebum, freshly returned from an on-world expedition, and Nayeon, the ship’s junior counselor. Sungjin tried to ignore how  _ alive _ Jaebum looked, like he’d seen more adventures in his week away than Sungjin could ever hope to in his life. It wasn’t that Sungjin was jealous—Sungjin wanted to captain a ship, not lead a squad—but seeing Jaebum reach his goals when Sungjin was so far behind hurt a bit. Just a smidge. A teensy—

 

“Are you grinding your teeth?” Nayeon asked.

 

“No.” Sungjin smiled widely for her to see. Nayeon’s eyebrows lifted, suspicious. He hoped she didn't try to counsel him, because she usually just ended up trying to tell him what to do, and he nodded and then did the opposite.

 

Jaebum led the way through the sleek, white, winding halls of the ship. His red expedition squad uniform attracted attention wherever they went. For a moment, Sungjin had the odd sensation of being ship-famous. As a lieutenant, he wielded a good bit of authority but none of the glamor. 

 

When they were in the cafeteria, their voices masked by the chattering of their fellow crew members, Jaebum finally leaned close to Sungjin and said, “Listen. I found out the admiral is going to be on ship next week.”

 

“Admiral Park?”

 

“The one and only.” Jaebum arched an eyebrow. “Word is they’re promoting someone. USS Apollo. My money is on you.”

 

Sungjin bit his lip and stared at his food. Was he really going to take one more step toward his greatest dreams?

 

“But,” Jaebum said.

 

Sungjin’s heart stopped beating. He didn’t like the sound of  _ that. _ At all.

 

“He’s bringing someone with him,” Jaebum continued. He was staring at Brian, whose gaze kept flickering between Sungjin and Nayeon. Nayeon was staring at Sungjin with a frozen smile on her face.

 

“Don’t say it,” Sungjin said. He held up a hand.

 

Unfortunately, he knew full well who his competition was.

 

“I mean, he is up for promotion, too,” Brian said very carefully. “He’s put in the time and the work—”

 

Sungjin closed his eyes and counted backwards from ten.

  
  
  
  


Later, safely hidden in the dormitory, Sungjin sat twisting his hands around a stress ball.

 

“Are you going to rant?” Brian asked.

 

“I’m not going to rant.”

 

“Wonpil will come too, you know. Won’t it be great to see Wonpil? After all this time.”

 

Sungjin glared at the porthole of black space. “Bet he’s been  _ corrupted _ .”

 

Brian sighed heavily and sat down on Sungjin’s bed. “You know… maybe it’s time to let go of grudges from  _ Academy _ .”

 

Sungjin twisted the stress ball. “I don’t hold grudges from Academy.”

 

Brian sighed again, and stood up. “Do too.”

 

“Do not.”

 

“Do too.”

 

“Do  _ not _ .”

 

And then Sungjin broke the stress ball, spilling tiny beans all over his bed.

 

He forgot about the argument and began cleaning up his bed. Or rather, he didn’t forget so much as he assumed he’d won. But twenty minutes later, deep in the puzzle of some obscure alien language, Brian muttered, “Do  _ too, _ ” and pulled on his head phones.

 

Sungjin threw the empty stress ball carcass at his head.

  
  
  


* * *

 

_ Starfleet Academy _

_ Five Earth years earlier _

  
  


Sungjin dashed across the grass of Starfleet Academy’s spacious, pristine lawn, his mind occupied by the unusual social dilemma that had been nagging at him for the better part of the day. Other students turned to watch the usually-conscientious cadet blatantly ignore the sign proclaiming (in eight languages) DO NOT WALK ON THE GRASS, but no authorities—robot or otherwise—materialized to tell him off. Insofar as Sungjin was famous throughout the Academy, he was usually given the benefit of the doubt. And considering the magnitude of the problem facing him, he surely needed to take the shortcut across the grass that day.

 

He slid through the doors to the library and drew a good bit of attention as he sped along the first floor corridor, peering through the glass of every private study room. He finally found the one he was looking for and pressed the button to open the doors. Brian and Dowoon looked up, startled.

 

“Are you busy?” Sungjin asked, mostly to Brian. Dowoon wasn’t terribly useful for delicate social situations.

 

Brian glanced down at his small monitor, which was projecting a tangle of cylindrical text for unfortunate linguistics majors to tease out. “Um, I guess not?”

 

Sungjin wasn’t sure how to begin. He should be tactful. “Did you notice what Wonpil was wearing?”

 

Brian shook his head. “Saw him in training this morning, but I didn’t notice anything.”

 

“Really?” Sungjin asked. He slung his bag onto the ground and settled into the chair across from Brian. He was glad Brian had been able to snag a private library room, because he didn’t want anyone to overhear their conversation and get the wrong impression.

 

“I did!” Dowoon piped up, from the other side of the table. “I liked it.”

 

“ _ Really? _ ” Sungjin’s eyebrows lifted and he grinned in disbelief. “Had he changed since I saw him?”

 

Dowoon shrugged. “You mean the pink one, right?”

 

Sungjin tried not to grimace. “Yeah, that one.”

 

“Oh.” Dowoon shrugged again. “I thought it was pretty cool. Like, really old-fashioned, you know?”

 

Sungjin looked back at Brian, who just smiled pleasantly. “I didn’t see it.”

 

There was the very real possibility that a) Sungjin was out of touch with current off-world fashions or b) that Sungjin was just a judgmental jerk. Option a) was fairly likely; Sungjin had never cared that much about Earth fashion, much less what was popular on star bases or other planets, because Starfleet officers wore uniforms as a rule and Sungjin didn’t see the point in caring about much else. After all, he looked damn good in the Starfleet uniform.

 

Option b), though, he really didn’t want to consider. Because:

 

“Well, it’s awful. And I think I should tell him.”

 

“Why do you want to tell him?” Brian said, as patient as ever.

 

“I don’t want other people making fun of the Vulcan kid. I’m just looking out for him.”

 

“Wait,” Dowoon piped up again. “Wonpil is a Vulcan?”

 

Sungjin and Brian looked at each other, confused.

 

Sungjin turned back toward Dowoon. “Aren’t you two roommates?” How had it escaped Dowoon for the past year that his roommate was not entirely human? Wonpil was about the nicest person Sungjin had ever met, but still—he was  _ Wonpil _ . Academy students didn’t come any weirder.

 

“He’s one-half Vulcan,” Brian explained, now attempting to re-focus on his language homework.

 

“Is that why he’s so…” Dowoon gazed up into the air, as though he’d find the word he was looking for written on the ceiling. “You know,” he said, not finding it.

 

“He wasn’t raised on Vulcan,” Brian said, flicking words out of the cylindrical projection and into a straight line. “So he doesn’t have very good control over his emotions, which are many, and intense.”

 

“Is that why he sometimes doesn’t talk for like three days in a row, but other times he kisses my face before bed and says ‘Dowoon, you’re the best roommate in the whole world’?”

 

Sungjin and Brian looked at each other, each wordlessly trying to pass off the duty to continue the conversation. Eventually, Sungjin won through sheer force of will. (Brian was a pushover.)

 

“Yes,” Brian said. This was probably just delaying a problem until later.

 

“Back to the point,” Sungjin said. “What if someone gave it to him as a mean joke? Like, this sweater is so cool, hardeeharhar, you should wear it and everyone will think you’re cool too!”

 

Brian squinted up at him. “Who… Who talks like that?”

 

“I guess I should just ignore it,” Sungjin decided. He stood up from his chair, relieved to have made a decision. “I mean, it’s not like he’s going to wear it instead of his uniform, right?”

  
  
  
  


 

The next day, Wonpil was wearing the sweater instead of his uniform.

 

Sungjin poked him in the back during class. “Aren’t you afraid you’re going to get written up for a code violation?” he hissed.

 

Wonpil shook his head and turned just enough for Sungjin to see the profile of his face. “It’s in the student manual that students attending Starfleet Academy from planets other than Earth should be given reasonable accommodation to dress in accordance with the customs and traditions of their home planet.”

 

By all appearances, he was totally serious. Sungjin rubbed the back of his neck.

 

“And this… is related to… Vulcan culture?”

 

“I’m exploring my human side.”

 

He turned back around, as though this settled the issue.

  
  
  
  


 

Sungjin returned to his dormitory that night, threw his backpack onto his bed, and pointed a finger at Jinyoung on the opposite bunk.

 

“I need you to explain your boyfriend.”

 

“Which one?” Jinyoung asked, looking up from his tablet with a smooth smile.

 

“The Vulcan one.”

 

“Oh, we’re not dating.” Jinyoung waved his hand in the air.

 

On the bunk above him, Jaebum barked out a laugh. “Oh good, you’re stringing along a Vulcan. Great. That is  _ definitely _ not going to cause  _ any _ problems.”

 

Jinyoung lay down and delivered a hard kick to the bunk above him. Given that this was Starfleet Academy, and untold sums of Federation resources had been poured into making it the finest school in Federation space, his kick only produced a soft  _ thunk _ . Nevertheless appeased, Jinyoung turned back to Sungjin.

 

“ _ Anyway _ ,” Jinyoung said. “What’s the problem?”

 

“Have you seen his sweater?”

 

Jinyoung’s smile froze on his face. “The pink one?” he asked, in a falsely cheerful tone.

 

“That’s the one. Did you say anything to him about it?”

 

Still smiling, Jinyoung shook his head. “I asked Jackson to do it. Jackson has a way with words that I don’t have.”

 

Jaebum barked out a laugh again. “I have  _ never _ heard you admit anything like that before.”

 

Jinyoung scowled up at the bunk above him, as though Jaebum could see his face. “Why don’t  _ you _ say something about it, Sungjin? After all, you’re his senior.  _ And _ I’m sure you could find a nice way to say it.” Jinyoung sounded like he was lying, which he probably was. His smile faded a little bit as he pondered something. “I mean, the problem really isn’t the sweater, but that he’s so attached to it, you know? Someone’s got to take some responsibility here. I think it should be someone with demonstrated leadership skills—like you.”

 

Sungjin knew full well he was being manipulated, but even with Jaebum smirking at him like  _ you can’t seriously fall for that _ , he liked the way those words sounded.  _ Demonstrated leadership skills. _

 

“All right, I’ll say something,” Sungjin agreed.

  
  
  
  


 

The opportune moment presented itself the next day when Sungjin went to the lunch atrium, a large dome filled with flora from various planets and, more importantly, a similarly diverse number of food vendors. He had passed the queues for the Andorian and Tellarite stalls and was heading straight for some good, old-fashioned Earth food when he spotted Wonpil sitting with a pair of chopsticks in one hand and a book in the other, frowning at the story as if he didn’t notice the pink monstrosity enveloping his body.

 

Sungjin steeled himself for what would undoubtedly be a long and and bizarre argument, and walked over to Wonpil’s table.

 

“Wonpil?”

 

Wonpil looked up. “Sungjin!” he said, a warm smile spreading across his face. He put down his book and pulled out a chair. “I was just reading about the history of punk rock.”

 

“Oh… Okay.”

 

“I want to start a band,” Wonpil continued. “Do you want to be in my band?”

 

“Um, sure? Listen,” Sungjin decided to just cut to the chase. “You really like that sweater, don’t you?”

 

Wonpil’s smile faded into a soft frown. Sungjin was sure this was about the only Vulcan in the universe that could make you feel like you’d kicked a puppy if you said something mean.

 

“Do you think something’s wrong with my sweater?”

 

Wonpil looked up at him with wide, solemn eyes. Sungjin hesitated.

 

As it turned out, he shouldn’t have hesitated.

 

“WHOA!”

 

Out of nowhere, some beanstalk of a man had suddenly appeared and was leaning with both arms on the table, filling up the space between Sungjin and Wonpil. Sungjin slowly tore his eyes from Wonpil’s and looked up at the other student. Tall and thin, with large round glasses, he looked like an alien Harry Potter. Sungjin recognized him as Jaehyung Park, an Earth kid raised on some star base. He’d entered Starfleet Academy through the Starfleet Star Base Accelerated Application Program. There were pictures of him in the Political Science building, posing with Admiral Park, Admiral Yang, and Commodore Kwon. That was all Sungjin knew of him, all he cared to know, but apparently the guy had something to say.

 

“Are you trying to make a comment about Wonpil’s sweater?”

 

Jae gestured to Wonpil as though he were Wonpil’s representative spokesman. Wonpil looked, expressionless, between Jae and Sungjin, his eyebrows raised slightly. He was apparently very entertained.

 

Sungjin’s thoughts darted from possible answer to possible answer. Was this a politics game, like he’d have to play when he became a captain one day? All he knew was, he couldn’t let Jae win.

 

He gestured to Wonpil as well. “I was just about to ask him  _ how _ this sweater helps him explore his human side, exactly.”

 

Wonpil opened his mouth, but Jae cut in.

 

“You can’t just ask that. Do people go around asking you how eating kimchi helps you explore your Korean side? Speaking of, can I have some of that?” He nodded in the direction of Wonpil’s plate, who obligingly handed Jae the chopsticks. Mouth full of kimchi, Jae continued speaking. “If he says it helps, then who are you to question him?”

 

Sungjin tried not to gape. Being raised on a star base apparently made you  _ nuts _ . He made a mental note to either a) not have kids or b) wait until he was highly ranked and settled in a spacious villa on a planet.

 

“You can’t blame me for wondering,” Sungjin said finally. “I mean—it’s. So bright.”

 

Wonpil pulled at his sweater and pushed his chin into his neck, trying to get a good look at it. 

 

Jae took the opportunity to lean close to Sungjin and hiss, “Come on, man, this is a delicate operation I’m running here! The more you fight it, the more he loves it!”

 

“I read that bright colors give humans a similarly bright emotional response,” Wonpil announced, finally looking up.

 

“That they do, my friend,” Jae said, clapping him on the shoulder. Wonpil pursed his lips and brushed Jae’s hand away. It wasn’t one of his affectionate days, then.

 

Sungjin scowled and waited for their momentary squabble to finish. He certainly wasn’t about to take part in Jae’s “delicate operation.”

 

“I was just going to suggest he wear something else,” he said. He stood up.

 

Unfortunately, Jae was still significantly taller than him. Sungjin was pretty sure he could take Jae in a fight, but regardless, Jae was the one looking down and Sungjin was the one looking up. All the books on Earth culture noted that holding the high ground signified dominance, both literally and metaphorically. And Jae had the high ground, literally. Sungjin could see his own face reflected in Jae’s lenses.

 

“Look—Bob, your intentions are good.” Jae put his hands in the air. “But I can’t let you question my friend’s fashion choices. This is a complicated emotional journey he’s on—” Wonpil nodded. “—and he needs all the space he can get. If anyone gets to make comments about his sweater, it’s going to be me.”

 

Sungjin wanted to argue. But he was stuck on one thing—

 

“What did you call me?”

 

Jae squinted down at him. “Aren’t you Bob?”

 

And thus was born the most vicious one-sided rivalry in the history of Starfleet.

  
  
  
  


* * *

 

“You cool?”

 

Brian slipped into his spot in the line-up on the bridge, next to Sungjin and the other lieutenants. Sungjin could feel Brian’s considerate but still judgemental gaze fixed on him. He responded with a half-hearted shrug, the coolest shrug he could muster.

 

“What would make you think otherwise?”

 

“Well, let’s start with how you stayed up for  _ hours _ watching all of Jae’s vlogs.”

 

“It’s called ‘Lezzgeddit-tenant Jae’ and he ends every episode with ‘This episode has been patented, copyrighted, and JAERIGHTED.’”

 

“He’s a unique person.”

 

“He’s a Starfleet officer who acts like a clown!”

 

Something poked Sungjin in the back and he turned his head just enough to see behind him.

 

“People are, um, looking at you,” Dowoon said in what was probably supposed to be a whisper.

 

Sungjin rolled his eyes. But, sure enough, he could see the whole Planetary Exploration Squad on the other side of the bridge staring at him, Jaebum and Jinyoung with matching frowns.

 

“I’m just saying that if he gets promoted instead of you,” Brian continued, his whisper slightly softer, but not soft enough to stop Dowoon from poking him in the back again, “You will be okay, because you are a  _ professional _ , and so is he.”

 

Sungjin pursed his lips, shrugged his shoulders, and resolved to say nothing else on the matter. If no one else recognized Jae as being unfit for leadership, then Sungjin would no doubt have to suffer biting his tongue and bearing with the consequences. It just got under his skin, because—well, he hated to think it, but he had a feeling that in this big cold universe, Jae would always be the one to get promoted, if only because the universe laughed in the face of Sungjin’s suffering.

 

Captain Ahn and Commander Ok stood at attention in the center of the bridge, waiting for Admiral Park’s arrival. Suddenly he materialized there, surrounded by the Research and Diplomacy team he’d brought with him. Wonpil grinned and waved at Sungjin from the back ranks, earning a confused look from Ensign Bang next to him.

 

In front of Wonpil stood Lieutenant Park, a.k.a. Jae, a.k.a. the only person Sungjin had ever known to use state-of-the-art Starfleet technology to record a “sick guitar solo IN SPACE.” (“This is awesome,” Dowoon had said, watching the screen as Jae wandered around the outside of the ship in a spacesuit while playing the guitar. Sungjin had turned it off before Dowoon got any ideas.)

 

“Welcome aboard, Admiral,” Captain Ahn said, bowing before holding out her hand. The admiral took it, apparently thrilled to be on board. Sungjin scowled at Jae and scouted for any new weak points hidden behind those glasses.

 

“Glad to be here, though I’m sorry that I’m going to be changing up your crew.”

 

“There are several people overdue for a promotion,” Captain Ahn said. On the other side of the bridge, Jaebum raised his eyebrows and nodded in Sungjin’s direction. It gave Sungjin a swell of hope—or it would have, if not for the smile that had spread across Jae’s face.

 

As the formalities continued, Sungjin counted up his chances of being promoted (for the umpteenth time). He had a proven track record of successful leadership (no matter what Brian said) and he had a decent record of diplomatic negotiations (if no one counted the time he walked out of a meeting with an alien race that only talked in riddles and laughed every time he got one wrong—but that was  _ really annoying _ , and after Captain Ahn told him off, she admitted that she would have done the same thing, so in the end, he didn’t see why that would be held against him). (And who was to say Jae would have done better with the stupid riddle aliens?)

 

“Jae  _ did _ do better with the stupid riddle aliens,” Brian whispered.

 

Sungjin realized he had been muttering aloud. Dowoon poked him in the back again.

 

“If you worked together,” Brian continued, “ _ Maybe _ you’d discover that he isn’t as bad as you think he is.”

 

Sungjin rolled this idea around in his head. If he  _ was _ promoted to lieutenant commander, he’d probably be on USS Apollo with Jae. Could Jae turn out to be a decent colleague? Could Sungjin bury the hatchet?

 

He kept this in mind when Captain Ahn adjourned the welcome meeting and sent them back to their normal duties. He exited with Brian and Dowoon, walking down his beloved ship’s glowing white halls with the weight of potential forgiveness heavy on his shoulders.

 

Wonpil sidled up to them. “Have you given any more thought to the band?” he said to Brian, by way of greeting.

 

“Sure,” Brian answered, slinging an arm around Wonpil’s shoulders. “Dowoon can play the drums, and Sungjin can play guitar.”

 

“Great,” Wonpil agreed. “I found a second guitarist.”

 

“It’s ya boy, Jae!”

 

Sungjin turned around to see Jae following after them, arms spread wide and a grin on his face. His lieutenant’s badge glinted in the bright ship lights.

 

He clapped Brian into a hug as though they were best friends (which they were, but Sungjin chose not to acknowledge this betrayal) and ruffled Dowoon’s hair. “It’s been SO LONG,” Jae said, lifting his face into the air with a sigh. “Literally, to the edge of the galaxy and back. I missed you guys.”

 

Then he turned to Sungjin, his face lighting up with a new smile Sungjin couldn’t read.

 

“Bob!”

  
  
  
  


 

Captain Ahn announced a ship-wide party, lasting two full shifts. “See, this is what makes for a popular captain,” Brian said as he changed out of his uniform and into some trendy Earth fashion.

 

Sungjin opted for a blue flannel. “Did you hear him call me Bob?”

 

“Yep, sure did. You made it super awkward, after all. But it’s okay, storming out was a perfectly normal response.”

 

“I didn’t  _ storm _ anywhere,” Sungjin snapped.

 

Brian looked skeptical, but he didn’t say anything. They left the room and met Wonpil in the elevator, who looked odd in full Vulcan robes, since he normally wore the Starfleet uniform.

 

“I’m just saying,” Sungjin continued without interlude. “I can’t believe he called me Bob after all these years!”

 

“You look like a Bob,” Wonpil said. He surveyed Sungjin up and down with a cold, Vulcan stare, and then suddenly broke out into a very human smile. “Do you own any other shirts?”

 

“Ha,” Sungjin returned. He’d had the same shirt since Academy, but he didn’t think anyone had noticed.  _ Of course _ Wonpil had noticed. But then something occurred to him, and he glanced at Wonpil’s clothes again. “Is that—”

 

Before he could finish, the elevator doors opened into the large dining hall. Wonpil gave him a cheeky grin and sailed out of the elevator, his pink sweater layered beneath the robes like some sort of  _ unique fashion _ .

 

“Well,” Brian said, resting a hand on Sungjin’s shoulder. “As you can see, there are many ladies here tonight. And as long as you’re obsessed with Jae, you’re going to be a terrible wingman. So,” Brian flicked his fingers in a sardonic salute, “This is where we say goodbye.”

 

“I hate you,” Sungjin said. But Brian was already weaving his way through the crowd. 

 

This left Sungjin to wander aimlessly. He ignored Nayeon and Jihyo at the snacks bar, even though they waved him over. He ignored Dowoon playing the drums and jamming with some of the engineering crew. He even ignored Jaebum’s watchful glare from where he stood in the corner, arms folded over his chest. And thus Sungjin found himself at the punch table, pondering whether the bowl of red liquid was spiked with alien alcohol that would leave him comatose and definitely ruin his chances for promotion.

 

“Hey.”

 

Sungjin looked up. It was Jae, hands in his pockets. Of course it was Jae.

 

Sungjin looked at the punch. “My name is Sungjin.”

 

Jae nodded. “I know. I mean, I’ve known. It was just a joke—earlier today I mean, not in Academy. Guess it didn’t land.”

 

Sungjin considered this new information as he tasted the punch for unfamiliar flavors. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say now.

 

“I really thought you were Bob, that time. Wonpil told me your name, and I meant to apologize but then it was exams, and then I was on assignment, or it was too awkward, and—anyway. I guess I didn’t realize it was that important to you. I’m sorry.”

 

Of all the names Sungjin might have been confused for,  _ Bob _ was a really stupid one. A  _ very _ stupid one. He swirled the punch in his glass.

 

“The thing is,” Jae continued. “We have all the same friends, so I thought maybe a joke would break the ice? But you’re still pissed, I guess. Which sucks because if there’s a big group event and it’s between the two of us, our friends will usually invite you out. And not me.”

 

Sungjin stopped swirling the drink in his glass. He looked up at Jae again, and for the first time, he saw someone different standing there. Still a clown, but not—competition.

 

“Really?” was all Sungjin could think to say.

 

Jae shrugged. “Yeah, I mean—Jimin was all, ‘It’s about the group dynamics, Jae, don’t take it so personally,’ and Brian always said, ‘Just give him some time, I don’t know what his problem is.’ This is when we were all on USS Republic.”

 

Sungjin did some mental math. They were on USS Republic for about a year, and he couldn’t remember ever hanging out with Jae, not even once. He remembered  _ hearing _ about Jae, and asking what anyone saw in that guy. But Jaebum and Jinyoung and the others didn’t like Jae, either, so it hadn’t ever really come up, what Jae might have felt about it all.

 

Suddenly Sungjin was ashamed. He set down his maybe-spiked glass and held out a hand.

 

“Truce?” he asked.

 

Jae took his hand and shook it. “Truce.”

 

They turned and looked out at the crowd. Sungjin didn’t really know what to talk about, now that he didn’t hate Jae. Did he and Jae even have anything in common? Other than—

 

“So, are you ready to be a lieutenant commander?” Jae asked.

 

Sungjin looked at him. “What about you?”

 

“Me?” Jae laughed and held up his hands. “No way. Please, dear God, no.”

 

Sungjin just stared. He didn’t know what to do. “But I thought—”

 

“I’m in command, yeah, but like. Responsibility? Ha, ha. I’m much better at telling other people what they’re doing wrong than I am making decisions for them. I’m in training now for specialized diplomacy operations.” He looked at Sungjin. “You didn’t know?”

 

“No. I had no idea.”

 

“So this whole time, you thought  _ I _ was  _ your  _ competition?”

 

Sungjin shrugged. “Maybe.”

 

“Dude,” Jae laughed. “Even in Academy, I knew you were gonna become a captain.”

 

“You did?”

 

“Yeah,” Jae looked at him like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I mean, everyone knew. Everyone  _ knows. _ ”

 

Sungjin picked up his glass again. How about that.

  
  
  
  


* * *

 

_ Captain’s Log, Stardate 5876.12 _

 

_ Following our successful contact with the peoples of Spardite, I have allowed the crew a few days’ vacation at the nearest Starfleet star base, on the edges of Andorian space. We have been having a great time, and Wonpil insisted that we take this opportunity to finally introduce the universe to our band. So the five of us strapped on our space suits and went out on the hull of USS Apollo to record the following song. _

 

[MUSIC PLAYING - “CONGRATULATIONS”]

 

[END LOG]


End file.
